My Strange Poems

Our World

                                                     
                by: Margaret Sauder
   
      People speak of right, of wrong
      but itís all a silly song
      it doesnít mean anything today
      right is good and wrong is okay.
      
      Life is no longer fair
      and no one seems to care.
      Things arenít what they seem
      we are just living in a dream.
    
      Injustice we walk right by,
      ignoring the pleading cry.
      Tragedy only counts when it strikes us
      and then we cry: ďLifeís unjust!Ē
      How did we get so cruel
      that lifeís no longer a precious jewel?
 
      At whims of their will
      people go out and kill,
      innocent blood do they spill
      for their vile lust to fill.
 
      Our lives are like a teardrop
      whose miserableness will stop
      with the harsh, cold breath
      of a bitter, violent death.
 
       It comes out in a flood,
       a river of dark red blood 
      it sticks to many places
      on our hands and faces.
   
      I feel a violence people call love
      as tears rain from above.
      There is violence in everything,
      happy birds will not sing
      for rage silences all beauty
      and we feel violence is duty.
      
      Our world is a cruel and cold place
      where tears are ever present on my face.
      In the future this canít continue to be the case
      or we will end up wiping out the human race.
                              
 

Distorted

      Going around in circles
        running in place  
  reaching, streching, barely moving
     time feels like slowing.
 
     Always far, never close
      ideas unable to grasp
     fingers curl around air
   mind is high, nothing there.
  
         Shrouded eyes
    seeking, searching, lost
         ringing ears
       fulfilling fears.
    All is in distortion...
 

Wasteland

 
 
    The world is a ball of mud
 we swim in the lake of blood.
 And all around
 dead bodies strew the ground. 
 Paradise is a Wasteland
 trees turned to sand.
 There are no more birds
 nor comforting words.
 The ill-willed 
 caused the earth to be killed.
 All their violence
 caused this loud silence
 for nothing is ever said
 now that the earth is dead...
 
 I walk through these lands
 with dust on my hands.
 Life fell apart at the seems
 shattered are my childish dreams.
 Our only emotions are sadness
 and for some, madness.
 Yet we do what we must to survive
 some children of earth are still alive.
 We water plants with tears
 and work around our fears.
 No longer do we yearn
 for sciences to learn
 for all itís fuss
 was the end of us.
 
 We will all confess
 earth died for progress.
 it was not at all worth it
 for it dumped us in this pit
 where we work and strive
 yet have a hard time staying alive.
 Mothers all start to cry
 for all their babies die.
 Our race wont last long
 this is our dying song.
 Remember as you grow
 it matters not what you know
 protect our home earth
 the planet of your birth.
 

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